


The Good Thing That Hurts

by moonwenda



Series: Quietus [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, John is a virgin, M/M, happiness is overrated, kind of relatable to "Satisfied" and maybe "Burn", they have desperate sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwenda/pseuds/moonwenda
Summary: John Laurens was ready to give the world to Alexander Hamilton. Things did not work out quite as he had planned.





	The Good Thing That Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This is an adjoining piece to my previous Hamilton fic called "Just until sunrise..." - which I suggest you go check out before reading this. It paints the general picture, while this one tells some of their story from John Laurens' point of view. 
> 
> A few things to note: this is my first time publishing proper smut in English. Woah. I made some stylistic choices that led to... well, how this piece turned out. Do let me know how you found it!

From the moment John Laurens had run into Alexander Hamilton in person he had known he was lost. In many ways the encounter had been that of chance: he had had no idea of the man’s whereabouts that day – and why should he have known? Hamilton had simply been a figure in politics he had agreed with until that day. Someone he had respected, someone he may have had a bit of a celebrity crush on.

Upon that first handshake the balance had shifted and as the men had grown closer, it had become harder and harder for John to silence the whispers in his head. Whispers suggesting… God, all kinds of things. Things he should have only done to his wife. Things he could not even think about without blushing furiously. He was a married man, for crying out loud! In the end, his marriage had done very little to keep him at bay.

_.one fateful night._

The first kiss had been exhilarating in its urgency and desperation. This one matched it in the latter respect, the two men’s teeth nearly clashing as their mouths found each other. The room was very dimly lit – much to John’s dismay, but he could not disagree about the mood factor – and Hamilton’s hands were on his body, doing _everything_ at once. Or so it felt. His own hands were not much coyer as he slid his palms up against the other man’s skin underneath his shirt.  
“God, you’re so…” John started in between kisses only to be silenced with Alexander’s mouth on his, the man’s lips hard, demanding. This was neither the time nor the place for idle praise – an approach John understood, yet disagreed with.

While his words may have been quickly discarded, the way they touched each other told the very same story. Alexander’s fingertips ghosted over his skin, the touch light as a feather and the expression on the man’s face almost fascinated as he watched goose bumps form on John’s torso, his shirt discarded a long time ago. He unbuttoned the shorter man’s shirt with shaking hands, pushed it off his shoulders. He needed to see, he needed to feel Alexander’s skin against his own. His hands were always pleasantly warm, and the freckled man could only imagine how good it would feel to press up against that chest, to melt into the touch and fall asleep against it. He was in way over his head – had been since day one.

Frankly, he could not have cared any less as Alexander’s mouth found a specific spot in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The moan escaping his lips was positively filthy and made the shorter man smirk against his skin before biting down again. John threw his head back – good God, was this how it was supposed to feel?! He pulled Hamilton’s hair to get his attention and looked him dead in the eye.  
“Quit messing around and _take me_ ”, John hissed, pressing himself flush against the other man, backing them up until the backs of Alexander’s knees hit the bed. They tumbled down onto the mattress, Laurens eagerly stripping the man beneath him of his pants. He could not wait any longer. He wanted – no, he _needed_ to feel the other man.

Martha? It was moderate. Safe. Did he love his wife? In a way. Did the woman drive him insane with desire? No, and she never had. However, this man – this damn political prodigy – had managed to make Laurens forget his name by simply smirking at him and touching the back of his hand. Was this a wise choice? Far from it. It was quite possibly the _worst_ choice he could ever have made, however his brain refused to acknowledge the truth as he ground his hips down against Alexander’s and felt the other man shiver underneath, shoving his hands into John’s slacks and pushing the garment down his thighs.

“Calm down, snapping turtle”, Hamilton growled into his ear and John froze. His brain simply could not follow through with any sort of a command after hearing that sound come out of the other man’s mouth. It was so deep, contradicting his normal speech and it made Laurens feel positively lightheaded as the blood in his body rushed down into his groin. The next time the wiring in his brain connected, he found himself in Alexander’s previous position: pressed against the mattress with the other man looming above him, a wide grin on his face.  
“Please”, he blurted out hoarsely, his breathing a little uneven already. He was sure about two things: he wanted to go through with this and if he had to wait for much longer, he would spontaneously combust.

Much to John’s delight, Alexander seemed to finally understand the urgency of the situation as he started tugging the freckled man’s boxers down. Laurens moaned in sheer relief when he felt his erection being freed from the confines of his underwear, the garment now discarded somewhere on the floor. He pulled the shorter man down for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, hungry and pleading. Hamilton grunted into it, making quick work of his own underwear before breaking the kiss and reaching into his nightstand.  
“Now I don’t want to _break_ you, however tempting the idea sounds”, he noted with a smirk as he squirted a generous dollop of lube onto his fingers. “Open up a little, Laurens.”

John obeyed, spreading his legs. His confidence had forsaken him completely and he blushed as he felt the first slick finger prodding at his opening. He bit back the urge to speak, to ask a myriad of meaningless questions like “will it hurt” or “will you be gentle”. All he needed to do right now was breathe and adjust to Alexander’s fingers – he would find out about his fleeting concerns in time. The first finger felt slightly unpleasant, though admittedly it was nothing John had not done to himself before. He squirmed a little, earning a laughter from Hamilton who pressed a kiss onto his stomach while working in the second finger.

That stung quite a bit more and made Laurens whimper, his back arching off the mattress.  
“Are you a _virgin_?” Alexander whispered, his voice quiet and... delighted? John felt his face flush hot with a rush of blood as he looked to the side, biting his lower lip.   
“I have only ever… been with Martha”, he admitted begrudgingly. All he heard in response was a short huff, however he _felt_ more than that as the man pushed his fingers further in, bending and turning them simultaneously. John moaned at the sensation, his right hand grabbing a fistful of the sheet underneath him almost instinctively. If _that_ felt this good, what was he supposed to expect of the follow-up?

Whatever John had expected, it had not been the burning but pleasant sensation he was now engulfed in as Alexander slowly slid his member into him. He could not stop himself from borderline mewling and pushing his hips back against the shorter man who was stroking his hair with one hand and holding him down with another. This was far further than anything John had ever imagined. Not even in his wildest dreams had the thought of finding himself in Alexander Hamilton’s bed crossed his mind and now that he lay underneath the political prodigy ready to surrender his virginity, he could not help but feel ever so slightly dumbfounded.

_.present day._

John had been staring at the messages from Alexander for the past fifteen minutes. So, this was how it would end. In a conversation via text messages. All those nights, those feelings, discarded like torn paper to the wind. He had given himself to Hamilton willingly and now, as he read the messages again and again, he could not help but feel sick.

_“We can’t keep doing this. If it pops up in public, I’m ruined, John, do you understand?”  
“John? Please. Answer me. All I ask is you acknowledge this somehow.”_

As John started to type his answer, he sneered at himself. How stupid had he been to have believed in Hamilton’s hushed confessions in the dark? To have clung to the man so tightly, madly, like a lifeline. He was truly an idiot, an idiot who had fallen in love with someone who only took with no remorse for their prey. He erased his elaborate message and replaced the rational, thought-out lines with a single sentence:

_“God, I hope you’re satisfied.”_


End file.
